


Dragon Age: Second Chances

by LilacGooseberies



Series: Dragon Age: Birds Of A Feather [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Double Trouble AU, F/M, Hawke Has A Twin, Multiple Wardens AU, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9767663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacGooseberies/pseuds/LilacGooseberies
Summary: Loraine Amell's research on red lyrium isn't going so well considering the fact she's part of a mage rebellion as well as a hunted member of the Order she dedicated her life to. She's tired of running, fighting and finding more questions than answers. It is by fate's hands that she stumbles upon a part of her life she thought she left behind. But she's a different person now - and so is Cullen. Will the change bring them together or utterly destroy both?Warden Amell's role in the Inquisition if she was Stroud's partner in researching red lyrium and its implications. Mainly AmellxCullen, with Sollavellan in the background. Double Trouble AU with both Marian and Garrett Hawke.





	1. Arrival Of The Birds

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended listening: The Cinematic Orchestra - Arrival of the Birds 
> 
> Mage Garrett and rogue Marian Hawke.

 

It’d been a week since the Hawke twins - Champions of Kirkwall - made their appearance at Skyhold, stirring up spirits, as they always do. Each member of the Inquisition reacted differently to them: some were amused, others enraged; some were awed by their tale, others wary of the danger they imposed; some were aware of the lie, others were shocked by the truth. And whilst some wished to meet them and otheres to avoid them, the rest only heard they’d been at Skyhold  months after they’d left.

 

And by a week’s time, Lydia Lavellan and her entourage have arrived in Crestwood, a village broken in half by the past Blight. And although she felt an urgency in finding this warden - friend of Hawke’s - she would not allow the villagers to suffer a day more from the undead. A day of fighting corpses and demons during a storm, in drenched and bloodied armour, had left the Inquisitor too exhausted to do anything but sleep, once the rift’s been closed. Their claim over Caer Bronach was a victory for the Inquisition, but as they approached the empty fortress, all Lydia wanted was to lie down and for a moment, forget the weight on her shoulders. Sadly, she might have to settle for a cold dive in the lake and a bedroll before the scouts will make this place livable.   

 

Even with a captured Keep, Lydia’s favourite reward, she realised the next morn, was the sun’s warmth. The previous day had taken its toll on her, so the radiant sun, set in a clear sky, not only changed the surroundings, but changed _her_.

 

The Inquisition’s scouts and soldiers were arriving at the fortress since the night before, with the biggest bulk of people showing up mid-day. Amongst them was Marian Hawke, smiling cheerfully at the sight of their flag. Her red armour had claw marks and dried blood, but she didn't look worse for wear. 

‘And here I was thinking I’d never see the sun again. I’m not a fan of moldy clothes. Did you skinny-dip to the Rift, Inquisitor? Unplugged the lake and drained it up?’ she said laughing, with relief in her eyes.

Lydia would have said her piece, had she not been interrupted by Varric. ‘Maker’s breath, where were you two? You just took off before we reached the village! Would it hurt to lend a hand?’

With her attempt at joking suddenly gone, Marian shrugged at him, crossing her arms defensively. ‘We were told to find Stroud aaaand we did. Took us just as much, with all the demons and undead swarming about.’ Then turning to the Inquisitor, she continued. ‘His cave was well hidden by the mist, and considering all the caves we’d checked before that and the bears we had to wrestle with, I’d say we were quick.’

 

And she was right. The cavern the group was led to was near a lake and virtually hidden because of the boulders and cliffs that blocked the view. A well-chosen hideout, now guarded by Garrett who was obviously impatient by the way he’d been pacing at the entrance next to a sleeping mabari.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Commander of the Inquisition’s armies must recognize the imprint of evil and danger when he sees it. It’s imperative to their survival.

So when he heard that Marian Hawke had also arrived alongside her twin brother to Skyhold, he braced himself for the worst. He sat at his desk all day, so focused to not be distracted were she to interrupt him, that it was all he could think about.

She wasn’t a demon nor a mage, no, but she _was_ evil. With her evil snares and winks and mean jokes. She enjoyed manipulating people, making them squirm and gaining the upper hand no matter the circumstances. Any moment now, she’ll barge in his office and make some sarcastic remark, like _‘Oh mister ‘_ Mages are not people _’ you got a whole **lot** of mages here, how’s your allergy holding up?’ _ she’d say in a sing-song tone, mocking him and reminding him of the horrible things he’d said. He’d done. If he’d get out alive of the encounter with at least one of his limbs attached, he’d call it a victory. Marian is prone to violent outbreaks and considering what happened in Kirkwall…

He expected her to scream and yell at the sight of him, maybe ambush him.

What he didn’t expect was to find her blocking the door to his office once the war meeting was over with a rather calm attitude.

‘I see you got a promotion. Sure, not amongst the Templars, but you know what they say-’, she no longer slouched over the door but took a step towards him, her eyes searching his with a cutting edge, ‘you can take the mage out of the Circle, but can’t take the Circle out of the mage. Does it apply to Templars as well?’

 _Who even says that?_ he thought, keeping his ground even as her stare was sending chills down his spine. He’d seen her angry before and this wasn’t it. _But it’s a stare I’m sure I’ve seen before…_

‘I’ve no time for games **or** patience for mockery, Hawke. I’m sure you also have work to do.’ Cullen responded with a calm voice, although inside he was wondering what he could use to blockade the doors once inside.

 

‘They say you’ve changed,’ her voice was calmer, yet her offensive stance remained, ‘that you’ve left the Order for good. They’re right?’

It was what he expected, after all - just not in these words.

‘Yes, I did. Is this what you want? An apology? Would you offer one as well for the hand you had in destroying Kirkwall? You should be grateful I played along with Varric’s lie.’

 

He didn’t mean to sound so angry, it wasn’t her fault after all, but it was an effective tone and she softened immediately after, her gaze dropping. It was a reaction he - no, not just the reaction, the entire conversation seemed alien and unexpected, yet familiar. _Like that time when…_

‘I’m sorry.’ Marian’s stare travelled everywhere but avoided him, her arms crossing against her chest once more in a guarded pose. She was still blocking the door.

‘As am I. It was wrong of me, I was unfair with-’

‘I don’t want to hear it. Just… Just don’t go back there?’ she cut the conversation short, her voice no more than a whisper, and even as her body was facing the mountains, her head shifted back to him and he remembered...

_…Bethany._

Hawke had the same look of hope (or is it hopeless-ness?) as she did when he, with two other recruits, escorted Bethany Hawke from her home in Lowntown to the Gallows. She came willingly, poor girl, while her brother was comforting the crying mother and Marian herself gave him all these expressions she’s giving now. Anger, sorrow, giving up on saving her sister but hoping she’ll be happy, that she’ll be treated well, because the alternative is too cruel to consider.

 

A chain of expressions he’s seen many times whenever a child, sibling or spouse were taken to the Circle.

The guilt he transformed in hatred.

As she headed towards the stairs, Marian regained her composure. ‘I don’t know who you are now, Curly, just…don’t be Kirkwall you, alright?’ A pause. ‘Just don’t be a jerk’ she laughed, her smile cold and forced. She descended the stairs, giving him no further explanations.

 

And it took two weeks to understand what she tried to warn him about.


	2. The Bird's Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening: Vangelis - Rachel's Song (Blade Runner)  
> Apocalyptica - Strong Enough (lyrics used)
> 
> First POV is Lavellan's, followed by Cullen's then Amell's.

_I'm not strong enough to stay away._  
_Can't run from you,_  
_I just run back to you._  
_Like a moth I'm drawn to your flame,_  
_Say my name, but it's not the same._  
_You look in my eyes I'm stripped of my pride._  
_And my soul surrenders and you bring my heart to it's knees._

* * *

 

 

 

Cassandra’s expression was hilarious, in a way. Lavellan felt bad the Seeker had to experience the same shock twice in such a short time, but couldn’t help smile at the dropped jaw and large eyes of the warrior as she said:

‘I. Cannot. Believe this.’

Blackwall, on the other hand, hid further away behind the others. Varric’s knowing smirk grew was even brighter than it had been when the Hawkes showed up at Skyhold.

There were questions – but they would have to wait. Lavellan sent the Wardens and the Hawkes back to Skyhold alongside Varric and Blackwall, the Inquisitor herself staying behind with her other companions to resolve all the other issues plaguing Crestwood.

This was becoming more interesting by the day.

* * *

 

 

 

It was a peaceful day at Skyhold. Cullen started the morning by training his recruits, ensuring the guard rota was set and the reports from last night were solved. He was informed by one of the scouts that the Hawkes would be returning to Skyhold by mid-day, accompanied by their Warden contact. Until then, he had time to digest the situation with the Wardens.

For all Grey Wardens to think they’re dying at the same time… He wondered what became of Amell but quickly shook her away from his thoughts. The last thing he needed was to see the lyrium ghost again, the most terrifying side-effect of lyrium withdrawal. A fleeting image that already made the ligament in his right arm twitch and hurt.

He was re-reading Lavellan’s report for the fourth time after lunch when the door to his left opened. A hooded figure, dressed in a Warden’s uniform, stepped inside the office, closing the door back with gentleness.

Maybe Cullen misread the reports, because he was certain Stroud would be a man. But then who is-

 

‘Hello, Cullen.’

 

**_No._ **

It can’t.

 **She** can’t be here.

It’s the ghost again. Has to be.

 

It took one second for the pen in his hand to be crushed. A second for him to raise from his seat as the woman before him revealed her face. A second for a thousand thoughts, nightmares, hopes and dreams to flash before his eyes.

 

 _She can’t be here._ He _must_ be seeing things. _Yes, yes, lyrium withdrawal, she must be an illusion._ He’s…he’s gone beyond help _, get Cassandra, she can…_

Yet, she looks nothing like the presence in his nightmares.

 

> _There was some…youthful infatuation on my part. I found her…compelling._

But Circe Amell never looked like this in his visions: older, with soft wrinkles at her eyes and mouth. Her eyes, once filled with wonder and hope, now deep with wisdom and sorrow. She looks tired, yet still shines like a beacon in his poorly lit office, her smile as welcoming as ever.

She no longer hid behind her hair, now shoulder-length and messy, her fringe still framing her face. It made her look more mature, open and lovely from the lustful image of her the demon had created.

And it took one second for her shy smile to fade into a worried frown.

‘C-Circe…?’ he stuttered, now realising he’d been shaking, but not from fear. It was something else. Excitement? Nervousness? He hadn’t seen her since the Kinloch Hold, since he’d broken her heart with his cruel words.

This reaction must not be what she expected, because she looks down-right confused, offended.

‘I thought they’d told you,’ she whispers, more to herself, before addressing him, ‘I asked Leliana to inform you that I’d be joining Hawke. To be granted permission. She even said you were glad to hear of me. I apologise, this is, I…’

‘Why would you need _my_ permission to come?’ Seeing her at a loss for words gave him confidence and helped him understand her better. After all these years, she was still an open book to him.

 

 _She_ was afraid he hated her. While _he_ feared she hated him. The irony did not elude him.

 

‘I **am** glad to see you, it’s been…too long’ he confesses, ‘You simply took me by surprise, I expected Stroud. Yet, here **you** are.’ As if the very memory of her summoned her here.

‘You’re glad?’ she asks with her voice, while her eyes speak something else. _Do you see me as a demon? Do you fear I am a vision, a horror here to haunt you? Do you still hate me?_

He didn’t realise he was now a step away from her. As he reaches for her hovering hands, he feels a warmth that soothes his soul, not the burn the demon etched into his skin. And as he gazes into her eyes, Cullen sees the woman he’d lost so many years ago, and not the demon that tortured him in his mind, using his infatuation to break him.

‘Y-yes. But you? Are _you_ glad to be here?’ he asks, hoping she can read him just as well. _Can you forgive me?_

 

They embrace and say nothing.

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a clear difference between Circe the Warden and Circe the woman. As they parted from the embrace, Circe felt it was only fair to explain herself to Cullen, giving such a detailed report of the events he had difficulty following her.

That much hasn’t changed.

There was a question he wanted to ask and which she seemed to avoid in her monologue.

‘Where have you been, though? Leliana and Cassandra looked for you right after Kirkwall’s destruction, yet found no trace of you or Hawke.’

She considered the question, crossing her legs as she relaxed in her seat. ‘Of course.’ She sighed. ‘I didn’t want to be found. I travelled to Kirkwall before the rebellion began, to venture in the Deep Roads thaig that Hawke discovered – and, well, meet my family’ she responded cheerily.

‘You were in Kirkwall? For how long? Did-’

As if she knew what he meant to say, she shook her head. ‘I only found out you were stationed there after the explosion.’ A pause. ‘Hawke told me…what happened. I recognized your name, and well, you know the rest.’

He paled. Maker, if she had only know Marian and Garrett’s version of events, he’s surprised she was still here, because if she knew what he was, what he said – no. It was no different from the horrible things he’d told her in Kinloch. Then why was she still here, as if nothing bad happened?

‘But regarding your question – we were together. Somehow, I ended up joining the Rebellion’ she said in a shy tone, laughing at the irony. She really wasn’t the rebellious type. ‘Silly, no? I never _hated_ the Circle – but they did. Hawke, Anders, Surana... None of them saw Kinloch Hold, they weren’t _there_ when the demons and blood mages destroyed my home. _Our_ home.

‘Still, Uldred’s uprising was a symptom of the disease – this rebellion was going to take place, no matter what. It was not a question of _if_ , but _when_. I took it upon myself, as Grey Warden, to offer protection to those who wished not to partake in the rebellion. I’ve escorted some to Vigil’s Keep, others I pointed towards Weisshaupt. But besides mages, there were many Templars who wanted nothing to do with this war.’

Circe despised war – she always commented on the pointless fights and duels amongst apprentices and mages during their late night chess games. Her compassion could have doomed them in Kinloch. But even from his prison he could hear her chant, words that he didn’t recognize, but eased his soul. He prayed so fervently – prayed she would be right, she would be alive, so when the chant stopped, his heart broke in fear he’d lost her. _No, he couldn’t lose her, she wasn’t his to lose._

She sighed, breaking his trail of thought.

‘I hope they are well. I fear for those in Vigil’s Keep – red lyrium is a greater threat than I ever imagined. And those who managed to forgo lyrium must be suffering from the withdrawal. Like you must be.’

‘H-how did you know?’

Her giggle was like the morning bird’s song. ‘If you were still a Templar, your title would differ. But, alas, it was your scent that gave it away.’

‘My smell?’ he asked, feeling slightly embarrassed. When did he last take a bath? He’s never felt more self-conscious. ‘How can you tell?’

‘When we… embraced. You smell different. In a good way!’ she added, still slightly awkward with compliments, even after all these years. ‘Lyrium influences the entire organism, it runs through your blood, after all, and as a result the perspiration differs from the average person’s. There’s also an aura around Templars that strengthens the Veil, of course.’

On her last words there was a knock, and soon after a man’s face peeked through the cracked door. Turning around, Circe waved for him to enter, standing up with grace. Stroud, she called him as he entered the office, and thus a reunion ended and a meeting began.

 

It was smart of her. In case things turned sour in their reunion, Stroud would arrive just in time to interrupt them, whatever it was an awkward or a down-right hostile conversation. But it also gave them enough time to reconcile if they both reacted well to the revelation.

But as soon as they finished the meeting, she left with Stroud, leaving him alone with the world’s sweetest smile and a thousand thoughts.

 

* * *

 

 

Circe was happy with how things worked out. He didn’t yell _‘Begone, demon!’_ and neither did he eye her with great suspicion. It was a surprise for her that he abandoned the Templar Order – he’d always been devout and loyal to them. But without lyrium, he was no longer a true Templar. An inspired choice, considering the damning fate of the Red Templars…

And he grew up. Maker, he was no longer the child with curly hair and an excuse of a stubble, paler by the year from life in the Tower. He was handsome. He was strong – but soft. Kind but powerful. And just as shy.

She giggled at the memory, seeing him at a loss for words. Whilst she was mad that Leliana tricked them both, she was satisfied with his reaction. It was genuine. And rather sweet.

Even as she toured Skyhold, all she could do was think about the reunion. _Try to remember his reaction. His scent._ Her heartbeat stopping when he shook violently at the sight of her. And his warmth as he took her in for an embrace. As if no pain, no years of struggle stood between them. Now, she no longer wanted to leave Skyhold. She wanted to be selfish for once in her life. And fix this. Fix what they had.

She somehow ended up in the hallway beneath the main hall in Skyhold, looking through every door. This way, she found the perfect spot. A small room, its walls filled with books and books alone. Hidden, cold and filled with knowledge. Unlike in the library, she could have privacy here.

 

‘This works,’ she says to herself, smiling satisfied.


	3. With Each Step

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied Leliana/fMahariel (f/f) towards the end.

 

Skyhold was a magnificent fortress. Isolated in the heart of the mountains, protected through its position and the magic that seeps through its ancient walls, it was the ideal home for the Inquisition. The more Circe explored, the more she wished to study it, to learn of its origins and history, because no other place she’s ever seen had such a fine mix of human, dwarven and elven characteristics.

The reparations were still unfolding though, blocking off many parts of the hold. Circe then found herself back in the main hall, searching for her old friend. They had been on good terms during the Blight, listening to each other’s tales (more like Circe correcting Leliana on her legends - hopefully she’s not upset about those times…) and confiding in each other. Well, maybe it wasn’t as wonderful as she’s remembering it now – back then, Amell had a hard time speaking to everyone but Alistair. Still, Leliana was a shoulder to cry on after the Kinloch Hold, after Alistair…

‘Looking for something, Grey?’

Varric came out of nowhere ( _well, maybe the front door?_ ) and smiled at her confused glances at the numerous door and corridors in the Hold. She knew a lot about him from Marian and Garrett, each of them considering him their best friend – they even fought on the subject once, but back then, they fought _a lot_.

With a sigh, she shrugs and confirms her frustration. ‘I’m looking for Leliana, but I got lost a few times through these corridors – luckily some of them are blocked off so I managed to find my way back here, in the end.’ This reminds her of the first days at Vigil’s Keep, where she still managed to get lost although the Keep was similar in size to the Circle.

‘No wonder why. She’s hold up in the rookery, top of the Tower,’ he says, pointing with his thumb to the door near the fireplace. ‘Go past Chuckles’ room, past the library and up the stairs and you’ll find her. But Grey, once you’re done with her, go check up on the Seeker before Hawke or I end up a pile of bones.’

Good, she knew where the library was, but didn’t actually go through Chuckles’ (who was that supposed to be?) room to get there before. She nodded gratefully to Varric before entering the room she was pointed towards. Whoever he or she was, Chuckles was obviously talented. The colours and brushes lying around the walls indicated that whoever stayed here painted the murals themselves, depicting the Inquisition’s path through beautiful, yet ambiguous figures. The desk in the middle was riddled with opened books and notes, a mess that was familiar to her, as well as a stone tablet. She approached the unusual object, glimmering with a blue light, captured by her usual curiosity. A skull was at its centre, surrounded by a halo with small, unknown inscriptions on it. Circe could swear it hummed whenever she got close enough…

Averting herself from the object of interest, making a mental note to ask the Inquisitor and ‘Chuckles’ about it, Amell continued her path. The library was just as busy as before, the same figures looming over large books and scrolls, hungry for the knowledge that could give them an edge against Corypheus and his armies. But, besides the familiar mages and scholars, an unknown person, Tevinter in appearance, was reading from a book sitting in a massive chair. Was he here last time she came through?

He seems young, perhaps under 30. His clothes’ style betrayed his origins, but not his status. If the Inquisition had a magister amongst them, she would have definitely heard about it. Still, his outfit isn’t as decorated and heavy with cloth as other magisters’ – but maybe he’s in disguise, hiding his origins?

Whoever he is, he’s taken notice to her, glancing up from his reading with sharpness, analysing her in turn – and just as quickly.

‘Ah, you must be the special guest the Inquisitor told us of,’ he said with the beginning of a smile appearing on his face. As he stood, graciously introducing himself, she returned the gesture. ‘I am Dorian of House Pavus – and, before you ask, no, I’m not a magister,’ as if reading her damned mind. Or perhaps he was so often asked such it became part of his introduction.

‘Altus, then?’ she chimes, over-confidently. She’s studied Tevinter’s history and even their old tongue during life in the Circle, knowledge she was always proud of having. If not a magister, this mage must be next in line of importance within the hierarchy. And to her satisfaction, he nodded to her correct response.

‘My name is Circe Amell, I’ve arrived this morn with the Hawkes from Crestwood. I’m lending my service to the Inquisition.’

If there was any surprise in his eyes, it was soon overcome by a look of curiosity, so familiar to her. ‘Amell as in _the_ Amell who ended the Fifth Blight? From Kinloch Hold, hmm?’

Rumours of the Blight reached many ears, each selecting their favourite version of the tale. It seems her name reached Tevinter borders. ‘ _One_ of them, yes,’ she emphasised, ‘along with my fellow wardens. I wasn’t the one who pierced the Archdemon’s heart, but I was there when it happened.’

Dorian looked intrigued, perhaps interested in dispelling the rumours he’s heard so long. ‘I’ve heard of a young nobleman from your country as well. And some scandalous rumours of yet another mage – a blood mage, who, mind you, is still at large? The noble, fair Grey Wardens would dabble in blood magic?’ He’s crossed his arms, resting upon the railing.

‘It was his decision – but alas, a decision that’s saved us. _Many_ times,’ she whispered, flashes of the horror she’s witnessed during the Blight still plaguing her even when awake. Surana’s contorted body, the red eyes piercing through his skin, the strength of his magic as he tossed the Archdemon around like a _toy_. ‘Surana’s forsaken it, though. He may be still out there, but has stayed clear of blood magic. So yes, the controversial rumours are true.’ She said nothing of Cousland; it was obvious that the other mage’s interest was to understand the Grey Wardens as an organisation, and by the tone of his voice and affiliation with the Inquisition, she’d wager he’s against blood magic and the magisters’ abuse of power.

‘It’s heart-warming to know you stay in contact with a wanted apostate. Still, I can’t deny I’m glad to hear that, although the rumours are true, the boy no longer subjects himself to it. Blood magic brings more harm than good.’

Dorian’s stance on the subject was new and refreshing. No wonder he’s been embraced by the organisation despite his nationality. Circe wondered though how he got along with the Inquisitor, considering the inhumane treatment of elves in the Imperium and Lavellan’s own strong, independent spirit.

‘In any case,’ he continued, smiling freely of constraints, ‘I do hope we can discuss these things further. I’d be honoured to learn more of the Blight from someone who was actually there and not, mind you, from ridiculous made-up stories.’

‘Agreed. I came to see the spymaster, but perhaps we can continue another time?’ she replied, happy to have found someone she can share knowledge with – perhaps even discuss the Architect with? He was such a difficult subject, and whenever she through of him, her guts twisted. That _thing_ was supposed to be dead, but if Corypheus returned to life as if nothing happened, could the same be said about the Architect? Could he be the reason Cousland disappeared?

‘It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dorian of House Pavus.’

He smirked, nodding. ‘Like-wise.’

 

* * *

 

 

The library took little time to pass through. It was nothing like the gigantic library Ferelden’s Circle had, filled with bookshelves so tall even their ladders weren’t sufficiently long to reach the top books. She’s often imagined those were the most precious and mysterious books, out of the mage’s grasp to touch or understand.  

As Circe reached the final level of the tower, she could hear the birds’ wings’ flap and the croaks of the ravens echoed. A dark figure, cloaked in a purple veil, was writing at the desk just in the front of the stairs, strands of ginger hair falling on the sides. And as it lifted, Leliana’s head was illuminated, her smile beaming at the sight of an old friend.

‘Amell!’ she called, as if both surprised and angry she didn’t come by sooner. The redhead got up from her desk, coming closer to see the mage closer. ‘I cannot believe you’ve cut your beautiful hair!’ she said jokingly, lifting the left side’s curls as if disbelieving this sudden change of look.

‘Harder to maintain it when there’s fire all around you,’ she mage answered, ‘Maker’s breath, you’ve not aged a moment.’

This amused Leliana, who laughed lightly at the compliment. They slowly began discussing their past experiences, how Leliana and Cassandra created the Inquisition and searched all over the land for the Heroes of Ferelden as well as the Champions of Kirkwall ( _What do you mean you were together the entire time?_ She asked in a shocked and slightly irritated voice). How Amell ended up in the rebellion, giving refuge to those who didn’t want to fight through the Grey Wardens while protecting others.

‘I don’t understand why you were looking for me,’ Amell said disbelieving, ‘Cousland should have been your priority in your search.’

Lifting her glass of roze wine, the rogue sipped from the sweet substance. ‘If we were to find you, perhaps you could have helped to find Percy in turn. Your ‘disappearance’ was more recent than his was. How long has it been, now? Seven? Eight years? Plus, you’re a loyalist mage, or I remembered you as such – the others would have listened to your advice. I admit, you surprised me by confessing your involvement in the rebellion.’

She snorted at that. ‘Yes, I surprised myself as well.’ A pause. ‘You didn’t actually tell Cullen about me.’

Leliana eyed her carefully now, curious. ‘No I haven’t. How did he take it?’, she said, probably expecting the worst.

‘Well. Of course, he was a bit in shock at first, but we’ve even…’ she coughs, ‘embraced shortly. It was a nice surprise, definitely not the reaction I’d expect.’

Okay, Leliana was obviously well amused now, satisfied with herself to the core. ‘It slipped my mind. Anyway, he’s always given me the impression he still thinks highly of you. Your reaction is what I didn’t anticipate,’ she purred, her eyes sparking with mischievousness. ‘How _have_ you been since Alistair?’

‘Leliana,’ the mage said, accentuating the name with a perfect orlesian academic accent, ‘which part of my private life intrigues you so much?’

The rogue arched her back, leaning on the chair in a cat-like manner. ‘It’s the lack of a private life that’s got my attention’ she suddenly jumps from her seat, grabbing Amell’s hands, ‘You deserve to be happy. Allow yourself the chance to fly, Circe.’

The mage blushed at the insinuations. She was ready to move on, after all, and did grow tired of loneliness and her hands alone satisfying needs she didn’t dare ask for from others. But this support from Leliana that came right after the mention of Cullen gave her a sort of butterflies in the stomach she hadn’t felt for…for years. Still, she had doubts the other man had any bit of feelings for her after all these years. Her image did plague his dreaming and waking hours, and, after all, she did – _sort of_ – betrayed him with Alistair.  

But at the thought of love, Amell remembered something very important. She dug in her robes, taking off the runed pendant she had hidden, offering it to the rogue’s open hand. ‘She’s well. With her clan – safe. She…wanted you to have this, to remember her by. To know she still cares for you, Leliana.’

The other woman stared in awe at the elvhen amulet at the top of the pendant, softly running her finger over it, her eyes becoming glassier. ‘I-I… Meila…’ she whispered, like a prayer.

‘Thank you.’


End file.
